Page 33 of Her Last Escape

He shook his head, a quick, jerky motion that reminded her of a puppet on strings. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple despite the room's chill.

Novak leaned forward slightly, his chair creaking under the shift in weight. "Then why did you run when we showed up at your workplace?"

Dewalt's laugh was hollow, nervous. "Because you both look very... official." He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I figured you were detectives or feds and I... I panicked and ran."

"Why would that make you run?" Rachel pressed. She could see Novak in her peripheral vision, his body language mirroring hers—both of them slightly forward, engaged but not threatening. They'd worked enough interviews together to fall into this rhythm naturally. “You had to have a reason.

Dewalt's mouth opened, then closed. He looked down at his hands, now flat against the table's surface. His fingers splayed wide, like he was trying to anchor himself.

Rachel decided to cut through the dance of it all. "Are you a murderer, Mr. Dewalt?"

The question hit him like a physical blow. His head snapped up, eyes wide with genuine shock, as if he’d been slapped hard across the face. The color drained from his cheeks so quickly that Rachel wondered if he might faint. Even his lips went pale.

"My Lord... no!" The words exploded from him, bouncing off the walls. "I've never killed anyone! Why would you think that?" His hands pulled back from the table, curling protectively against his chest.

Rachel caught Novak's eye and gave him a slight nod. They'd practiced this dynamic enough that he knew to take the lead. Good cop, bad cop was amateur hour. They preferred to work more subtle angles.

"Mr. Dewalt, we are in town working on a case that now involves three very gruesome murders," Novak said, His tone was matter-of-fact, almost conversational. "All of these murders are connected to New Horizons Cryonics... which we know your church has openly protested. Have you ever taken part in one of those protests?"

Dewalt's shoulders slumped. The fight seemed to drain out of him all at once. He understood where this was headed and he did not like it. "Yes, I have, but so have a lot of others." His voice had gone quiet, defeated.

"Yes, but those others weren't following New Horizons employees home," Novak countered.

“I suggest you explain yourself quickly,” Rachel said.

Rachel watched as realization dawned on Dewalt's face. The betrayal was evident in his eyes—Pastor Thorne had revealed his secret. His next words came out in a rush, like a dam breaking.

"After Sarah—my wife—died, I..." He paused, collecting himself. Rachel could see him struggling to order his thoughts. "I became interested in Not just cryopreservation, but all of it. Every experimental treatment I could find about life extension research, anything that might..." His voice cracked. "Anything that might have saved her. Even though I knew she was gone and there was no bringing her back…that’s where my mind went.”

Rachel felt a familiar twinge in her chest. She knew that desperation, that willingness to grasp at any possibility, no matter how remote. Her own brush with death had left similar scars. She pushed the memory aside, staying focused on Dewalt.

"I followed them because I wanted to see," Dewalt continued. "Just... see their lives. Their homes…where they lived. I knew it was weird…wrong. But I thought I could maybe work up the courage to talk to one of them outside of New Horizons and ask questions I couldn't ask inside."

"Why outside of New Horizons?" Rachel asked, though she suspected she knew the answer. The fluorescent light flickered again, casting strange shadows across his face.

"The church," he said quietly. "If anyone from Christ's Hope saw me there, asking questions..." He shook his head. "They'd never understand. They barely understood when I started asking questions about Sarah's treatment options."

“You spoke to Thorne about this?” Rachel asked. “About following these people?”

“Yes. I asked for prayer because I knew it was stupid and maybe even sort of illegal. I needed help.”

Novak leaned back in his chair, the metal creaking slightly. "You have to understand how this sounds, Mr. Dewalt. Following people home isn't normal behavior."

"I know." Dewalt's voice was barely above a whisper. "I know how it sounds. But I only did it twice, and I didn't even know their names. I made sure to only follow men when they left for the day—following women seemed..." He gestured vaguely. "Wrong. Creepy."

“How did you choose who to follow?”

“I didn’t really choose. Everyone usually left at the same time, so there was usually a pretty big group. It let me sort of wave into the traffic with them without anyone even noticing me.”

Rachel studied him carefully. There was a raw honesty in his grief that rang true. She'd interviewed enough killers to know the difference between genuine emotion and performance. Still, they needed to be thorough. And she again knew that using the very recent murder of Peter Wells as a start for their timeline could either eliminate Jason Dewalt as a suspect or pin him down.

"Where were you yesterday between five in the evening and nine at night?" Rachel asked.

"Working." The response was immediate. "Double shifts, yesterday and the day before. Both nights, I was at the warehouse until eight, then went home."

"Any stops between work and home last night?" Novak asked.

"Just the grocery store. Green's Market on Madison.”

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